Noir Justice
by Magna Relator
Summary: Uncle Ben once said, "If they have too much power, then it is the responsibility of the people to take it away." Peter Parker, the Black Spider, tries to uphold that in the chaos of the events of DCAMU. All whilst butting heads with the rest of the superheroes and trying to keep what's left of his life together.
1. Chapter 1

I'll be in keeping with his slight strength disadvantages and keep his make weight lifting limit to 9-9.5 tons. The Spider-man here will be a mix of Noir's storyline and 616. The DC universe this is set in the DCAMU universe: Justice League: War, Justice League: Dark and Justice league vs Teen titans. So, Peter is about 17 in this timeline. Your vote on Teen Titans or otherwise. Perhaps a team with Red Hood? Currently up for consideration his romantic relationships: Ravager, Super Girl, Raven, Dee Dee, Arachne, Black Cat and Starfire.

Also be warned that much of the stuff Spidey says will be jargon from the 30's so be prepared to look it up.

Also, BETA needed with great grammar and well versed in both DC and Marvel.

* * *

Gotham city. A baroque landscape of buildings built from ages past and present. Modern construction of glass and steel clashing against the stone gargoyles that stood upon many older buildings. Rumours abound of the origins of Gotham, a city built upon a site of ancient mystical power. A city originally built for the insane and deranged. The truth having long since been lost to time.

In the day it's an economic hub bustling with industry and currency. Businesses, legitimate or not, conducting their operations with little fuss. The night however, was different.

The well known to be a den of corruption in law enforcement, politics and more. Crime was rampant and alleyways hiding dark, dangerous and despondent secrets. Arguably more well known to be the home of the caped crusader, the Dark Knight, The Batman. The black caped vigilante that beat down the criminals and exposed to corruption in his city.

There was an interesting caveat to that. His city. The Bat rarely flew far from his hunting grounds. Many of the criminals that wise up to this flee to other places. Places such as Gotham's neighbouring city. The much more modern city of New York, the Big Apple, unique New York.

In many ways Gotham's equal and opposite, modern, bustling and safe. Mostly.

In truth, New York was every bit as dangerous as Gotham. The only difference being that many criminals, having fled from the Bat, knew how to be careful and quiet. Still, a comparative safe haven compared to the rotting carcass that Gotham. Free of costumed freaks barring those eccentric crime bosses.

That, was about change.

* * *

A dark alleyway, intersecting the main street. It was bare of any of the pedestrians that would normally cross during the day. Just like they knew it would be. Their white van parked at the mouth of it, blocking the way with its bulky chassis. Two men sat, at the driver and passenger seat respectively.

"Psst! Mac!" The silence was broken by the hushed voice of a man.

"Mac, hey, Mac!" A hand tapped at 'Mac's shoulder prompting a snarl from him.

"The hell is it Brad?!" He grumbled.

His voice was muffled slightly by the black ski mask that he wore over his face. His heavily muscled frame contrasting Brad's gaunt and thin build. Mac's black sweater barely fit him whereas Brad's looked so loose that it looked like he was a kid that was trying on his dad's clothes.

"So much for the 'city that never sleeps' huh?" Brad grinned. "This place is a cakewalk, no more being busted by the Bat, no more psychopath freaks like Joker or Penguin! Just good old Crime bosses like Hammerhead and Kingpin. Fellas we can understand! Do our work undisturbed and give em' a cut!"

Mac grumbled something unintelligible. It was no secret that he resented having to kowtow to the other criminal bosses. Still, he couldn't lie that being allowed to work without living in fear of some super freak or costumed nutjob was better deal than Gotham. The few that have popped up got taken care of by the one of the bosses pretty quickly.

"Hey, you hear about the Osborn boys?" Bradley continued. "His gaggle of circus freaks got whacked not too long ago by somebody the Bugle's callin' the Noir Spider, Black Spider, if you don't care too much for the French-speak."

That got Mac worried. He did hear of the Spider. Some freak that beats the shit out of guys like him and hangs em' up in a giant spider web for the cops. Word is he isn't like the other superheroes, that he kills sometimes. He didn't want to believe it, hoping to whatever god would listen to a criminal like him for the Black Spider to be just a load of hot air made up by the Bugle to get readers.

"Shut yer trap Bradley," Mac grumbled. "Go check on the others, they're late and we're burnin gas sittin' here wit' the engine runnin'."

Brad sighed stepping out of the van's rear door and into the cold winter air. It wasn't snowing just yet but he wasn't too surprised in it would soon. Hugging himself and rubbing his arms to stave off the cold. Stepping out, he crushed a few discarded pieces of garbage that had a thin layer of frost underfoot.

He stepped towards a large hole in the brick wall. They had chipped away at the brick wall's mortar for some night before, finally weakening it enough for that section to be pushed in with a swing of a sledgehammer. All this was to get to the money launderer's vault on the other side of the wall.

"Hey, what's takin' you mooks so long?" Brad asked, staring into the hole in the wall.

He got no answer. "Is grabbin' green to hard to do? C'mon guys it's freezin' out here!"

"Don't think they can say too much." A voice called, a voice that sounded like a kid's yet wasn't.

He turned his head up, towards the source of the voice. "What the fu-!"

He was silenced by a glob of black silk that latched onto his lower face. His eyes widened, hands flying to try and pry off the substance. Looking to his assailant, Brad froze.

It was a figure, a man, garbed in an open black trenchcoat that casted a shadow over the light from the streetlight at his back. He was crouched on a giant black spider web that was anchored along the narrow walls of the alleyway. His arms were resting on his knees and staring down at Bradley.

Aside from the trench coat, he wore a pair of cargo pants, high military styled boots and a leather jacket worn over a black coloured vest on sepia clothing. A mask of black fabric and wide, angular aviator goggles covered his entire face. Topped off by a fedora he held pinched between his fingers. Displayed on his chest, however, was the white icon of an eight legged arachnid.

"Figured I would get some _finks_ like you this time of night," He said

Three human shaped figures hung from parts of the web. His crew, Vincent, Rubo and John all wrapped up in the same black silk, only their panicked, darting eyes visible from their bindings. Muffled pleas for help emanating from the cocoons, terrified, wide eyes begging for help.

Frozen by fear, the thug didn't even get the chance to run before he was snapped up by a burst of web lines, snaring him and dragging him up amidst his muffled screams.

Mac looked back in time to see his crewmate get snagged. Grabbing his crowbar and pistol, the thug made a dash through the van and snapped his gun upwards. He was met with a fist that smacked square into his face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch.

"You fuckin' Spider-freak!" Mac roared, grabbing his bleeding nose with the gun that held his hand.

"Real original, bet a greaseball like you get many friends with those off the cob jabs?" The Spider landed in a crouch in front of the criminal, raising one fist and angling himself for the oncoming blow.

"Shut up!" Mac swung his crowbar at the hero, missing when the black clad vigilante jumped back.

He let himself drop, arms positioned behind him. His palms smacked against to cobblestones, whole body coiling up into a mock fetal position with his arms supporting his body. Like a coiled snake he struck out, both feet striking Mac's chest.

The big man was thrown back nearly ten meters down the alleyway. He would have flown further if it weren't for the fact that his back slammed against a metal dumpster, cushioning his fall. Still, he curled up on one hand and both knees. One hand wrapped around his chest.

"Don't worry, I didn't break em' just bruised. Which is more than I can say about you if you don;t work with me pally." The man was back, standing a mere foot from Mac's fallen form.

Mac looked up, blood gushing from his nose and into his mouth,colouring his white teeth a bright red. "I-I dunno nuthin'!"

He crouched down, white eyeless lenses reflecting Mac's terrified features. "A fink like you can't have figured out that this place's vault hadn't been reinforced up to standard in years. So, who's your butter and eggs man?"

Yet, the thug seemed determined to keep his lips sealed. Simply glaring at the vigilante.

"Have it your way," The Spider hissed, grabbing a black revolver from it's holster and lowering down at Mac.

"W-wai-" He didn't get to finish, a sharp crack echoed through the crisp New York air.

He screamed, yelling curses at the top of his lungs. Rage and shock, followed by pain and tears. His hands swapped around his kneecap, gushing crimson all over the ground.

"Don't believe I'll fill a mook like you with night light? You Brunos are always so sure of yourselves." He pulled back on the hammer once more with a loud ratcheting click. "Still think you got me all figured out?"

Mac had enough, thus freak wasn't like the others. He didn't sign up to die for Hammerhead. "H-Hammerhead, he meets us at the docks every Friday. That's all I know I-I swear!'

"Now was that so hard?" The Spider sighed, releasing a spray of webbing at Mac's leg, simultaneously binding him to the floor and applying a makeshift gauze to staunch the bleeding.

Snapping up one of the thug's dropped cell phones. He gave a quick message to the ambulance and police.

"The Coppers are gonna take care of you lot. Maybe I'll have a chat with my favourite gumshoe."

He drew away slowly, performing a gesture similar to 'Devil's horns' performed at rock concerts. The line of black biological cable connecting to a distant wall and letting him swing away.

* * *

"Hell of a mess," a police officer said, shifting the steaming cup of coffee he held in one hand and taking a bite from a doughnut in the other.

The overweight man looked on at the sight of the criminals being hauled down. This was just one of many robberies or cases of theft that ended in the perps being wrapped in black silk.

NYPD often receiving an anonymous tip off with a nearby payphone or one of the suspect's own devices. Frankly whoever this, 'Black Spider', was, he certainly had it in for these folks.

"What's your take on this detective De Wolfe?"

An attractive blonde looked his way, the police department's badge hanging from her neck via a thin chain. She wore a khaki overcoat over her green skirt and white blouse.

Her attractive fair features pale in the early winter chill. Full, pink lips pressed into a grim line and cheek reddened and flush. Her short blonde hair was pressed down by an old paperboy's cap, giving her a look reminiscent of women from the thirties.

"He's not stupid, I'll give him that much. Knew exactly who to ask. Ain't that right Gargan?" She gave a pointed look to the big thing being tended to by the paramedics.

He didn't say anything, only giving the detective a hate filled glare.

The overweight officer, Frank, smiled at him. "Ya blew it Gargan, last time we hadn't had the evidence to put you away. This time we got you."

"We didn't do jack squat this time Frank," De Wolfe countered, earning a questioning look from the other officer. "It's the spider that get em' all before calling us in."

"You callin' him some kinda hero detective? Last I read the he's still a menace," Frank huffed.

Dear Wolfe shot him a glare. "I'm calling him effective, good old Mac over here got a cap in the knee because he didn't tell Noir Spider what he wanted to hear."

She turned to the criminal once more. "Isn't that right?"

Mac sighed, finding it useless to keep up the act. "Yeah, but I sure as fuck can't tell you blue pukes. Da boss won't know who told da bug, word is he hits lots of us. He'll damn well know if I told you, no dice."

Jean hissed a string of curses under her breath and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Just...just take him."

The detective was pulled away from her frustration by a familiar buzzing in her pocket. Pulling out her phone, she eyed the single message outlined by an icon of a black fedora.

"We need to talk, gumshoe."

She smiled, pearly whites showing as she strolled back to her car.

"Meeting a special someone detective De Wolfe?" One of the female officers asked.

De Wolfe paused a moment to think on her response. "You could say that."

* * *

Diners, she loved diners. Especially after a tiring night call, a decaf and apple pie with vanilla ice-cream or a strawberry milkshake did her good.

All Stripes diner wasn't the biggest she'd seen, but it was clean, the food was good

Well, that and the fact that she was meeting a friend. Tucked away in the corner booth, away from whatever passing pedestrians. That was how they agreed to meet.

"The usual detective Jean?"

She smiled and nodded at the owner, a lanky man in a red striped uniform and grease stained apron.

"Order up! Apple pie with vanilla ice-cream!" He called back to the kitchen.

The jingle of the door drew her attention to the door, finding the trench coat clad figure that she had grown used to.

Joe ignored him, it was in his best interests to anyway.

"Spider," the officer greeted.

He took a seat across her, waiting on how to come and drop off her order before he leaned forwards on the table. His white goggles reflected her face, though it didn't bother her as much as it used to.

"De Wolfe, having an All-the-way again?" He returned, looking towards the dessert.

Jean huffed. "The last thing I need is a health talk from a spider."

"What's your story, Morning Glory?" He asked, a hint of mirth in his voice.

The detective grumbled. "Gargan didn't say anything, pretty sure he spilled it all to you though."

Nodding, the vigilante leaned back in his seat. "Hammerhead is paying off lesser crews to keep freaks like me off their backs."

The detective bit a slice of pie and ice-cream from her fork. "You think this has something to do with the recent killings of Meta-Humans?"

The black clad man shrugged "You're the Abercrombie Gumshoe, you tell me."

Jean gave a schortle, she liked the way Spider spoke. He often tickled her fancy of the thirties in the way he dressed and spoke.

Since she met him about taking down Otto Octavius, this had become regular. More often meeting about criminals, or information that he managed to get when reaching around the red tape of the law. He got things done where her hands were tied, though his fatalistic view on crime wasn't the easiest to agree with.

"Next Friday. Hammerhead's are meeting with all the small crews to get a cut of their haul at the docks. I'm hitting it, be ready with meatwagons when I give you a dil-ya-ble."

He spoke with finality, he wasn't asking for help. "Don't you think it's a trap? He might not even be there, let me call it in."

Black Spider raised his hand and gestured with two fingers. "He doesn't know that I'm onto him. A looker like you is going to stick out hard with a group of thugs like them around. No offense dollface but you coppers leak like a bad faucet."

"Plus, if I crash the party in front of the crews. It'll send a message that Hammerhead's hunt for Metas aren't doing squat."

Jean snapped her fingers. "Making all these show killings of Meta humans stop because of the loss of credibility!"

He nodded, though he was smiling she couldn't tell behind the black mask.

The Spider stood, trench coat fluttering as he left. Leaving the detective to finish her snack.

* * *

Queens, New York… It wasn't clean, pretty or high class, but it was home. For Peter Parker, he was one of the few places he truly loved. His house was old, Aunt May and Uncle Ben bought this place back just before the Great Depression of the 1930's.

"Peter!" An elderly woman called, Aunt May, good old aunt May.

It took a moment for him to pull off his trench coat, mask, gloves and vest. "Yes Aunt May?!"

He threw kicked Uncle Ben's boots under his bed and opened his door. The sturdy leather footwear thumping out of sight.

"I just wanted to wish you happy birthday dear." The old woman smiled.

Aunt may, she's been putting up a strong front since uncle Ben's death more than a year ago.

"Thanks Aunt May, I'll be down in a minute," Peter smiled back.

She nodded, she tried not to show it but it weighed heavy on her soul. Every holiday or even that uncle Ben wasn't here for. The first Christmas, the first Thanksgiving, the first new years.

"We'll be down soon or the cake won't eat itself!"

Peter grinned at that, she always tried to appear cheery despite herself. Taking care of him on her own was never easy, he at least wanted to earn his own way into university. Between his time as a vigilante and an investigative reporter, it wasn't easy to find time to study.

Aunt May sat at the old table, a bright smile on her face as she watched her nephew walk down the stairs.

Seeing her like that, Peter couldn't help but feel like something was wrong. Without Uncle Ben, the tabled seemed so empty. The birthday seemed more like a funeral than a cause for celebration. Still, the teen kept up a forced smile, taking his seat at the table.

Just Aunt May and himself, Harry and Mary Jane too. Though he pushed them away years ago, the young man couldn't help but feel lonely. Even so, every time he thought about reaching out and explaining himself, her words rang in his mind.

* * *

The docks were cold, the scent of salt permeating the night air. It was late, the kind of late that nobody would be out at the docks unless they looking to stay clear of prying eyes. Peter leaned over the edge of a roof, watching over the gangsters below as they loaded the truck.

"Hey, why the heck down the boss want this thing again? What the heck is it anyways?"

Fancy Dan, a man in a magenta business suit pried open the wooden cover of the crate with his crowbar, peering into the strange icon on the black statue nestled on a bed of packing foam. Bile rose at the sight of that tacky suit. The same ones he saw in those pictures Urich had taken. His smug expression captured in that frame. Standing amongst the crowd of terrified people, watching as their home burned down by his hand.

Peter hissed, ducking down when they loved into a nearby warehouse. _"I'll make those finks pay for what they've done."_

Another man, muscular and broad dressed in an orange sweater that stretched across his frame shrugged. He was Ox, the Goblin gang's muscle.

"Somethin' fer da boss's collection a voodoo...juju crap."

Fancy Dan leaned down, fedora topped head casting a shadow over the object. He eyed it suspiciously.

"Buncha hocus pocus if ya ask me."

It was a life-sized statue of a woman made of a black glass-like material. Eight legs wrapped around her body from a giant spider that peered over her shoulder as she lay upon the packing material. Bags around her youthful face with long hair tied into a braided bun, her eyes however. Serene features seemingly despite the and the arachnid that was wrapped around her.

" _An obsidian statue? How did anybody carve a statue so damned detailed out of a material so damned brittle?"_ Peter wondered.

"Word is the boss got this piece smuggled from a place called Themyscira from an inside source."

"Hey, quit yer yammering and load it up!" Another voice called from inside the truck.

Both Ox and Fancy Dan grumbled, hefting the crate up.

Almost immediately, Fancy Dan's knee buckled from the weight. "Ox, h-hold up I can't"

The crate and statue came crashing down, violent shattering the immaculate figure's stomach section. At first, Dan leaned in panic settling in as the thug panicked at the thought of becoming the Goblin's next victim. He concerns were cut off as a swarm of spiders emerged from the depths of the hole.

"GET EM" OFFA ME! THEY'RE BITING!"

Peter watched, eyes fixed in shock. Shock, not horror, horror was saved for those that didn't deserve.

"Don't scream… don't," Peter steadied himself, unable to look away from the flailing criminal as his crew tried to help him.

Caught in his shock, the young man noticed too late that one of those black spiders hand climbed onto his hand. The stab of pain that followed it's fangs sinking into flesh tainted his vision in black. A searing pain ripping through the teen's skull.

He looked around, hazel eyes wide when he found himself in the center of a massive web stripped nude. The stands of white silk as thick as suspension bridge cable were covered in swarms of enormous, skittering black spiders that stared at him with their numerous crimson eyes. A dim red light enveloped him, seemingly from the masses of gathered spiders.

Peter struggled, oh how he struggled. Each tug and ragged breath drew the attention of something else. Something terrible.

" _ **Hmmm… what do we have here?"**_

A smooth, silken voice called out to him. It steadied his struggling for a moment, if for no other reason than to search for the source of the voice. The voice chortled, her laughter didn't feel like she was degrading him, just that she genuinely found him amusing.

She was getting closer now, stepping into the scant light before him. Her form inspiring nothing short of sheer awe. Her body...bodies…the torso of a young woman dressed in a simple white dress and corset, fused to the horrifying lower half of a titanic arachnid.

Her human appearance was exactly that of the statue that the Goblin gang was carrying. THe only difference was that now he could see her in colour.

"Y-you're…"

She leaned forwards, spider limbs propelling her forwards with ease and grace that betrayed her size. The spider woman's face was inches away from his now. Her small smile did little to reassure him.

" _ **Why do you tremble? My bite brings death to only those of evil intent… Forgive me, for I must bestow on you a torment even greater. The curse of power..."**_

"Wait, wha-" Peter's response died when she darted forwards, long fangs glinting with venom sinking into his neck.

* * *

The words of that giant spider goddess that had bitten him. Her words rang true, He needed to keep them safe, away from him and his many enemies. Aunt May though, he couldn't leave her alone, not after she lost Uncle Ben.

"Peter?"

He snapped out of his musings, Aunt May giving him a worried stare.

"Yeah Aunt May, just thinking of Uncle Ben is all…" He sighed. Leaning his elbows on the table setting his face into his open hands.

She laid a hand upon her nephew's shoulder. He looked up at her face. She leaned over, wrapping her other arm around him.

Both of them never said a word as the candles covered the cake in wax.


	2. Chapter 2

Regarding acquaintances. I've decided that Jason Todd and Peter might as well be friends, Jason just more trigger happy of the two.

More romance options would be Powergirl and Artemis of Bana Mighdall. This option if for those that want him to be with a redhead wonder woman with anger issues. Also, no, this will not be a harem story. I guess Jean De Wolfe too if you want.

So far Ravager and Raven are pulling ahead. Do you guys have a liking for names that start with the letter "R"? Should I throw on Robin? That's a joke, don't actually say Robin because I can't bring myself to write it.

I'm taking a more dark tone and atmosphere to the writing. Hope this chapter will turn out more like peanut butter and jelly for you guys. Last one felt like shit toes and fish.

* * *

The docks brought mixed feelings bubbling forth from Peter Parker. Memories like the night he first got his powers. He had long since come to terms with his gifts, to use them to fight the rot in his city. Working with Urich made it apparent that not everyone could be tossed in jail to serve their time and come out as changed people. Life was hard, even harder for someone with a criminal record.

The ones the public dubbed 'The Black Spider' stayed crouched upon the back of a stone statue of an angel in flight. A hundred feet over the docks, he could see anyone going in or out of the docks. Unfortunately the chilling wind bit at him even with his black trench coat and sweater In addition to the rest of Uncle Ben's WW2 pilot's uniform

The cold reminded Peter of what his aunt said to him. _"I don't want to live in a world where people kill each other!"_

That's what he once thought. Adrian Toomes was a monster, a cannibal, a true killer. He didn't have a choice when he pulled the trigger. A second later and the Vulture would have snapped Aunt May's neck like so many twigs.

" _Unrealistic…"_ Peter scowled, gritting his teeth.

" _They brought this on themselves,"_ he reasoned.

He had learned, prowling the town as Urich's camera man, that the real criminals had the judge, jury, police and politicians in their pockets. Nobody would question a slumlord's apartment complex burning to the ground with a few people inside.

The story was always the same, the economy would take a hit, forcing the landlord to lower rent. Lower rent meant cramming more people inside to make up for the loss. If that kept up, he would be forced to sell it. Who would want an apartment filled to the gills with the dregs of humanity?

From there a local crime lord would extend an offer. An 'accidental' fire that would give him a big fat insurance cheque, a cut going to the police to hush it up, the mob and then the politicians to drum up a show of such a 'tragedy'.

The late reporter's words rang true. "Even with one blue eyed copper or fireman that really wants to help, they'll all fall in eventually"

Peter's attention was drawn to the sound of oncoming vehicles.

The Spider whistled. "Jeez louis Hammerhead, you couldn't scream 'mafia' any louder if you used a damned air raid alarm."

Three vehicles, two of which were black vans that with side-sliding doors and a classic coup at the lead. They had stopped outside a warehouse, one of many at the loading and store house. Hammerhead was easy enough to make out amongst the fancy suits and ties. He was the one with the open red dress shirt and giant cylindrical head that no manner of hat short of a sombrero would hide.

"Ten trigger men, all with typewriters," he hissed, the submachine guns would be a pain to deal with.

Peter stood, removing his trench coat and fedora before pinning them to the roof with a glob of webbing.

* * *

Hammerhead didn't expect him. If he did then their business wouldn't be conducted in a building with a skylight. The black clad Spider had ripped the glass panes and metal frame off their hinges above them. Jumping through the gap and firing a bursts of webbing at the gangsters below. Those that could raised their tommy guns and fired, peppering the general direction with .45 bullets.

Like jackhammer in his skull, his sixth sense blared out at each bullet that came close to hitting him.

They all missed when Noir shot a web line at a nearby wall and pulling himself away from their line of fire and around a nearby row of shelves. They kept firing, muzzles following the path he was taking when he hit the ground running. Black Spider dove and ran between crates and shelves, bullets smashing crates and sending splintered wood flying.

He ran, flipping and weaving between the bullets in accordance to his Spider-sense's warnings until finally jumping behind a large metal shipping container.

The sounds of bullets ricocheting against his cover wasn't reassuring. He would have to play it smart, no way to get close with their Thompsons chattering away at him.

He peeked around his cover, catching sight of the warehouse's electrical breaker box. Almost immediately, his vision was filled with the orange glow of sparks.

He hissed blinking away the glare behind his goggles. _"Hell, can't a good web line in with those roscoes trained on me, Looks like I'm doing this the hard way."_

That was what he thought at least. Suddenly, a ring of metal whirring through the air and hitting the breaker with a sharp metallic *thunk* and the warehouse was suddenly enveloped in darkness. Their panicked firing into all directions of the inky blackness only further blinding themselves with their sporadic muzzle flashes.

The vigilante jumped up, his form casting a wide shadow with the moonlight at his back. Wrists extended, he snapped globs of black silk at them in return, each carefully aimed mass of biological cable landing on the muzzles of their guns.

"Up there!" One of the thugs yelled.

Hammerhead held two tommy guns under each arm, firing wildly at the vigilante with reckless abandon.

"Die ya wall crawlin' do gooder!" Hammerhead called, voice barely audible from the chatter of gunfire.

The rest of his men had been webbed in place with black silk, struggling helplessly to free their hands or weapons of the stuff.

Spider shot out another web line and pulled, superhuman strength coupled with his momentum and the web-line's elasticity making him slingshot towards Hammerhead. Another line from Peter's other hand connected with Hammerhead's chest, pulling him forwards toward the descending Spider.

Peter notched his arm back. "I heard you've got a hard head, you have an iron gut too!?"

The crime lord cried out when Black Spider's fist buried itself in his midsection with a devastating swing.

Hammerhead was sent crashing through a stack of crates. Black Spider landing in a crouch ahead of him.

"Force equals velocity times acceleration Hammerhead," he mocked the downed criminal.

Five of the gangsters had ditched their now useless weapons. Coming at him with knives and crowbars.

"Here we go again, don't you ratfinks get tired of **losing**?" He taunted. It worked, they all came at him at once.

He jumped, back flipping behind the one of them as they charged where he once was. Grabbing the legs of one of the thugs and pulling back, the vigilante swung him towards the others that were still piled together like a living baseball bat. A swift press of his back palm and they had turned to little more than a mass of thrashing and cursing limbs and heads wrapped in black biological cables.

"Uh, ugh..." He moaned, somehow still conscious despite the punch.

He rolled over, crawling to his knees and arms wrapping around his stomach. Heaving a disgusting cascade of whatever he had for dinner onto the ground.

Peter grimaced behind his mask, the smell permeating the area."Seriously Hammerhead, I mean seriously?" He extended a hand, webbing Hammerhead in place.

"You hit him in the Solar Plexus, with your strength I'm surprised he's not dead," a deep, baritone voice answered.

Footsteps from the darkness drew his attention over his shoulder. No blare from Spider Sense, just a dull tingle. The fellow vigilante didn't come for a fight, but he was more than prepared for one. Peter didn't need any kind of clue, the giant black bat with wings outstretched made his identity clear.

Black Spider turned, facing the caped crusader. "Not that I don't appreciate a jolly up Batman,

but aren't you supposed to be in Gotham?"

The caped crusader's grey bodysuit was almost hidden by the black cape and cowl. Muted colours contrasting a brass coloured utility belt. Tall build, muscular and broody. Kind of what Peter expected.

His white lenses fixed on the younger vigilante. "I was looking into your activities given our close proximity."

"Getting a measure of me eh?" Peter shrugged, extending a hand towards the thugs.

"You do efficient work with minimal collateral compared to most meta-humans. I'll give you that, but your methods leave a lot to question," Batman answered, eyes narrowing at the holstered revolver under the Spider's arm.

"We're both working around the law, I just do what needs to be done to save more lives. If it were up to me, Joker would be laughing at his own jokes six feet under. Since you can't seem to keep a lid on your 'Arkham' madhouse, but I respect your business Bat. I suggest you do the same for me," Spider sense kicked up a notch at that, it felt more like a hammer than a dull throb, he must have struck a nerve.

Batman stepped forwards, his taller stature making Black Spider look up to face him. The dark knight remained silent, staring down at the Black Spider. Spider sense now throbbing almost as hard at it did when he was getting shot at now. Leather gloves crinkled audibly when Peter clenched a fist, ready to throw up a punch.

The flash of red and blue light outside and the screech of sirens drew both of their attention at the windows of the warehouse. Batman turned, cape fluttering as he walked towards the skylight.

"Fine, but if you take it too far…" He left the rest unsaid.

"I can deal with that," Spider man grumbled.

Batman launched his grapple hook with a loud hiss and pulled him out of the skylight. Black Spider in turn let loose two web lines. One snagging the timed camera he had hidden in the upper corner of the warehouse whilst the other snagged the building outside.

"Jameson's gonna riot over these," Peter smiled.

* * *

 **{Black Spider Saint or Sinner?}**

Peter gave the front page headline a once-over. The Bugle had an artist's impression printed over the article and an actual picture that he had taken of himself in the warehouse. The artist depicted him as some sort of supernatural demon complete with gnarled limbs and digits hunched on a web.

It had six smaller eyes on his head in addition to the two large ones that he guessed were meant to represent his aviation goggle lenses. The drawn figure's mouth hung open in a razor fang filled snarl at the viewer. One hand outstretched in a parade of how he usually would launch a web.

Flipping over to the article, he mumbled the words out to himself. "Man or monster, demon or god… Do I look like some kinda halloween spooky to them?"

He turned over the page, it wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. Speculation of him just a normal guy with special devices that made it seem like he had powers, him being some sort of angry spirit come back from the dead to punish the wrongdoers or even getting bitten by some bio enhanced spider.

"Ridiculous…" He sighed, putting the newsprint down and leaning back.

He lay on a hummock made of his black webbing. Secured between two chimneys of an abandoned factory complex. A rough roof made of more webbing kept the snow out.

"You'd think people would have better things to do," he mumbled.

Hanging around the old industrial district growing into a regular thing for him. The place was abandoned even of vagrants that swear the old complex was haunted or had some toxic spill.

Whatever it was, it let Black Spider have a well needed place to rest and relax between his patrols.

The pictures for the article paid well enough, Jameson was an aggressive and convicted man. More than a little abrasive and tended to jump the gun but that was part of his charm.

The memories of their first meeting brought a smile to his face.

* * *

 **"PARKER! SIT!"** The bombing voice of Jameson, editor of the Daily Bugle Newspaper called.

Two years ago, almost to the day and the memories were still fresh in his mind as if it were yesterday. Ben Urich had shown him in, the man was busy grinning at him from outside the glass window of the office. The moment the nervous teen took a seat however, the other employees that were present vacated the small officer.

The man was middled aged, sideburns greying his otherwise black hair and a small mustache that he dare not compare to a certain 20th century dictator. His face was wrinkled and portrayed every second his his age and experience as an editor for a big paper.

Jameson's mood to a more sombre note as he put his hands behind his back. The middled aged editor sighed and stared out into the snowy New York night, as if to calm his previous outburst.

"Urich says you're a good kid, an orphan too. Lost your Uncle last week. Good man. A little red around the gills for my taste but still…"

He took a sidelong glance at the boy seated at the armchair.

"So you wanna join the fourth estate?"

Peter struggled to find words that won't offend the man. "No, sir, I want to study-"

Jameson took a large step toward the teen and gestured with both hands as if to embrace a god. "SCIENCE! Urich told me about that and how you want a job that would help pay the bills now that you're uncle's gone."

Jameson had a look of slight sympathy on his face for a moment.

"Listen here kid, a picture is worth a thousand words. Urich here has a special talent for putting the two together." He raised a hand, waving toward the older reporter.

Jameson grinned. "Kid, there's veterans begging on the streets and living in the sewers, children starving in the most wealthy country in the world and your uncle's death. All these sob stories aren't special in the least until we as the media make them special! We can save this country from its own rotting insides if we could just show them what lies beyond their crystal whisky glasses!"

He placed hand on Peter's shoulder. "You're gonna learn from Urich and get the word out and make our readers weep kid, make em weep."

* * *

Jameson had been a demanding and harsh boss but he was a damn good editor. Since he had rescued him from the Goblin gang. The old had cleared up the Noir Spider's name. Though that was more about people getting the facts wrong and tarnishing the Bugle's reputation with his impostor's death.

While the stubborn old mule hadn't been and out and out supporter of his vigilante activities. His rescue from Kraven's Siberian tiger gave old stone heart a soft spot for the Spider as far as reporting thing accurately went. Plus, he was the only paper that got more than a blurry black glimpse of the elusive Noir Spider.

The buzzing in his coat pocket prompted him to pull it out. Finding himself smirking at the sender and it's message. The message icon showed a shoe with a wad of pink gum stuck to the sole.

"De Wolfe…" He laughed.

He tapped his reply, mumbling softly. "What-do-you want- Gum-shoe… send."

It took a moment to get a reply, Peter dumbly staring at the blank screen until the phone buzzed again.

"Seriously, dinner at Stripe's? She looking to get caught with a nutcase?"

The sound of sirens brought the black clad vigilante out of his amused trance. He released an exasperated sigh. He replying to the policewoman with a quick thumbs up emoji.

"No rest for the weary I guess."

* * *

Jean stared at the Black Spider as he ate. THe detective held out hope that she might see who was under the mask. No such luck. His mask seemed to be two layers, the leather skullcap and chinstrap stayed on whilst he ate whilst the dark grey cloth that covered his mouth was drawn up to his nose.

He evidently noticed her staring and paused, setting his cutlery down down the Salisbury steak. "Not that I don't appreciate the meal detective, but last I heard you weren't paid on commission."

"You've done a lot Spider. Just wanted to show that not everyone in this city's rotten." The young man on the opposite end of the table nodded, picking the piece of meat on the fork.

He chewed thoughtfully, setting his hands down and wrapping his fingers together and staring up at his confidant in the Police department,

"Look, you're a good man, spider… Spider-man. Why do all this? Get shot at, everyone questioning you, lots of people hating you. This superher-" She was stopped his finger pressed gently on her lips.

He pulled it away after a moment, steak half eaten as he leaned back on the cushioned seat with a huff. "You see Gumshoe, I wasn't born with these powers."

The detective leaned in, this was the first time the Black Spider had revealed anything about himself. This warranted her full attention.

"Never really knew my folks, can't remember their names or faces. Raised by another couple, great folks, they grew up in the Great Depression, taught me old fashioned. Old man was a pilot in the second world war," he continued.

De Wolfe's eyes widened. "The skullcap and and goggles-"

"Yeah, his." Peter pulled at his coat to reveal his holstered revolver. "This too, by the way."

The police woman jerked back instinctively at the sight of the firearm. "That's-"

"The same one I used to kill Adrian Toomes. .45 Automatic Colt Pistol fired from an M1917 service revolver. The same gun that he used and his father before him, ballistic tests you ran would tell you my Roscoe was the one that added those three holes to the Vulture," Peter looked up, eyeing her under the rim of his black fedora.

"That doesn't explain why you're doing this," Jean said, her arms crossed.

The vigilante picked up his cutlery once again and began eating. "De Wolfe, I'll be straight with you. My old man's dead, killed by mobsters for being a rabble rouser that tried to fight for worker's rights. They didn't kill shoot him, they didn't give him a quick death or even the old fashioned concrete shoejob. I'm guessing you know what Toomes was wanted for?"

The detective nodded. "Extortion, rape, robbery, arson, torture by canniba- Oh no…" She looked at him, eyes wide in horror.

"My old man was eaten _alive_ Jean, a good man that lived for the people, with the people. When your people found his body, they hushed it up."

Jean rose from her seat, teeth barred. "No way, our boys wouldn't-!"

"They know you're too clean Gumshoe, they know that. Goblin paid every buzzer wearing blue blood to shut them up. I spent the last two years of my life touring the city and watching every little injustice. A couple living in a cave in central park, children that starved to death because their parents couldn't afford to feed them all. Have you seen that?

"Now that's the question, isn't it?" Peter snapped his head towards person standing before their booth.

Tall, smartly dressed in a dull blue suit, khaki overcoat and orange shirt. The most curious of his features… or lack thereof. The man had no face, just smooth skin where a strong set jaw sat.

Getting over his initial shock, Peter moved over. His spider sense wasn't going off, the faceless man wasn't here to fight. "I've heard some rumours of you all over, Hub City, Chicago and Gotham. Didn't think the man without face was real."

The question nodded, taking a seat. Beside the Spider themed hero. "I've heard some about you too, getting info about where to find you wasn't too easy Black Spider. You spin a big web but leave almost nothing behind."

He nodded. "All well and snazzy but we people like us don't give each other a visit to spout booshwash, so...?"

He nodded. "That's question I'm here to answer."

"One milkshake please!" He called.

The woman at the table sighed. "You two realize I'm still here right?"

Black Spider and The Question shared a look before answering in unison. "Yeah, so?"

"Not another…" she moaned, already feeling a throbbing headache coming on at the thought of consorting with two wanted vigilantes.

The Question nodded. "Going back to the subject. It's connected… all of it is connected."

He leaned back, reaching a gloved hand back into his overcoat and withdrawing a file. Throwing it on the table and spreading it open.

The detective reached out and spread it's contents on the table. Newspaper clippings, blurry photographs. A big man dressed in a black trench coat and wearing a ballistic vest with a icon of a skull, images of the Black Spider's webbed up thugs, The Question's calling cards in Hub City, and a blurry image of a man in a khaki leather jacket and some sort of red helmet, head tilted at the camera.

He gestured to all the gathered information with a wide arm. "We aren't like them: Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern… even Batman. They say they do what we do, good. Yet they don't do what needs to be done, throw the bad guy in jail and let the system handle it and the public eats it up."

"These… us, we aren't what anyone wants. Like you, Black Spider, you catch all the pests nobody likes in your web but what do they look at you with? Contempt, accusations, forcing you to live by their standards and expecting you to set an example when they don't know how truly evil the world is,"

He picked up one of the clippings, the same one Peter had been reading on the Daily Bugle this morning. Those damned headlines.

 **{Black Spider Saint or Sinner?}**

The Question then looked to the detective. "You should know Detective De Wolfe. How many dirty cops get away? How many criminals have judges in their pockets," He leaned in, voice gaining a harsher tone. "How can we be sure we sure you aren't here to rat us out at the best possible moment?"

Jean grit her teeth. "Now look you faceless creep, I spent my whole life-"

Peter drew the line there. "She's my line into the blue blood vessels of this city Question, quit acting like she's like the other dirty finks."

The Question's faceless visage was just inches from the policewoman's if he was "Everyone has their dark little secrets, Spider, people like us live in that darkness and root it out like the cancer it is."

Peter finally had enough. "Question, that's nut and baloney. So tell me what the **HELL** do you want."

He relented, sitting back down. He took a sip from his milkshake, the straw disappearing into where his mouth would be raising Jean's eyebrow. "Apologies, Spider, I'm a well known crackpot. What I'm suggesting is, we help each other out when we need it most."

Peter narrowed his eyes under his goggles. "From what. exactly?"

He reached into his overcoat once more and withdrew pictures the five most well known vigilantes. "From our enemies and them, because when we do what we do. It upsets to Police, it upsets the politicians, it upsets _them_."

The Black Spider sat in silence for a long moment, unsure of what to say. If any one of these heroes came after him he would have no idea what to do, Question may seem paranoid but with the near scuffle he had with Batman the other night...

The Question saw the pensive tilt to the other vigilante's masked head and the way his lips formed straight line. "Think about it, contact me with this when you have an answer."

He placed a small phone sized device on the table, white question mark upon an otherwise black screen.

"It only works once, then it blows up." Question picked up his milkshake again, finishing it off with a long slurp before standing up and placing a bill on the table to pay for his drink.

Black Spider raised a hand and waved. "See you around Question."

Peter caught De Wolfe giving him a look. "What?"

"Spidey, he's insane."

He let loose a hum. "He's also right."

She let out a harsh sigh. "You can't be seriou-"

"I'm dead serious. What happens if Superman decides that I'm too dangerous, Batman's even worse."

He swallowed, looking up at her. "What if this country decides that I'm a threat? When they put a price to have my head and every meta-human's head mounted on the president's wall… what then?"

De Wolfe's mouth was open, eyes fixed on the young man in front of her. In the beginning she thought he was doing this for a thrill, to be above the law. Now she saw, he was doing it out of respect. For his old man, for the people to live safe knowing men like Adrian Toomes or Osborn's gang weren't prowling the streets or looking to burn what little they had to the ground.

"Thanks for the date dollface, you're a good cop with blood blue as a clear sapphire. Those dirty buzzers, they'll make you take the rap one of these days. Mark my words," He pulled down the fabric of his mask and left. Leaving Detective Jean De Wolfe to mull over his words.

She watched him swing away, his silhouette visible down the street with the help of the New York streetlights.

* * *

"Batman, The Question who next?" Peter grumbled.

The teen lay on his bed, head swimming with questions that he couldn't answer… or didn't want to in some cases. Rolling over on his bed, hearing the creak of a bed frame worn by the years. Even like this where he felt safest, someone could bust in at any moment just like the Vulture did. If he kept going, at some point his war against crime was going to reach Aunt May. Just like how it did Harry Osborne and Mary Jane Watson.

He closed his eyes. Only for his enhanced hearing and touch to pick up the sound and very vibrations of sirens going off. It was torture. He wanted to pull on Uncle Ben's remade uniform and save people from each other. He needed sleep, he knew that.

Peter sat up from his bed staring at out the window where he first saw her. Every night he stared out that window to see the empty former Watson home. Her father was a bastard, sure, he was glad he was in prison now. Yet he couldn't help but wonder, what if…

"No!" He hissed, smacking himself in the forehead.

He grit his teeth. _"You've dug your grave Parker, time to lie in it. You did this to protect them!"_

He sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat. Hands slowly dragging down his face. "Look where it got you Parker! Oh... if only Uncle Ben and Urich could see me now."

No use for regrets now. He let himself drop to the bed with a harsh thump.

It was getting complicated so fast. When it all started it had been anger, vengeance, right the wrongs he saw as a photographer for Urich, he felt a need to protect the people the system didn't want to help. Yet in doing so, felt as poor as grave dirt.

Peter was cut from his wallowing with a phone call. The room was bathed in blue light as he flicked the screen on.

"Karen… Page?"

* * *

" _What a dame, what a looker."_

Blonde, tall, fair complexion and handsome features and an hourglass figure to boot. Baby blue eyes, heck she could pass off as a super model instead of a journalist. Dressed to kill too: tight grey jeans, a black shirt that showed more than enough cleavage all under a small red leather jacket. She knew how to get a man to talk, it was her job.

In short, not a woman that would give Peter Parker a second glance without a damn good reason to. He was wearing an old maroon sweater vest, white shirt and a pair khaki slacks and a similarly coloured jacket. Plus, his lean and muscular build and cut features made him look like someone had chiselled a statue in the 1930's and brought it to life.

"Mr. Parker, I've seen your reporting. Stellar work," She extended an open palm toward the teen.

Peter shook the offered hand. For now… he'd have to play the part of the lame Peter Parker, investigative reporter for the Daily Bugle newspaper. The kid that got shoved in lockers throughout high school. "Ms. Page, I've read some of your stuff on the Punisher. Did some pretty good honest journalism, more than I can say for most media these days."

"Please Mr. Parker. Lois Lane would put my track record to shame." Karen smiled, bright smile that hid nothing.

"Well as much as I love chatting you up. You didn't call me here for a date and I sure as heck didn't come here for a Honey Cooler," Peter returned her smile.

Part of the teen relished the thought just being that, a man and a woman on a date at a coffee shop. Talking about life and future plans. That wasn't quite the case though.

She nodded. "Let's talk just think of us as two people from the papers giving each other tips."''

Peter gace a frown and raised and open hand. "Alright, I'm open to it."

"Black Spider." Karen began, making the teen pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Peter sighed. _"Shoulda' seen this crap coming."_

"You seem to be able to take pictures as events unfold and many times taking pictures of Black Spider in action even before the arrival of police," She unfurled a notepad, giving the young man a focused stare that he knew could only mean one thing.

"Look Ms. Page. I've spent a year under Ben Urich's wing. You knew him too right?" She nodded sadly at that.

"I'm not 'just' taking shots of this loony that goes around beating on thugs and gangster. I take plenty of other pictures for the Bugle too. Between that and the fact that thanks to the shit I've seen smeared on the streets and Urich teaching me just where to find it." Peter sank down in his seat, visibly deflating like balloon.

Karen looked alarmed for a moment, apologetic, even. "Look I'm sorry, he was my friend too-"

"Look, I move around a lot at night okay? Best time to catch glimpses of him, he usually doesn't web swing in the day. Makes him too obvious and he doesn't like too much attention, at night you can tell which direction he's going," Peter grumbled, scowling at the journalist

He got up to leave, shoving his hands down his jacket's pockets to stave off the cold. Karen reached out in an attempt to grab his shoulder as he left but he had already moved out of reach.

The woman settled down in her seat and huffed " _Great, pissed off my only lead on the Black Spider. Not to mention the kid that Urich trusted everything to..."_


End file.
